


Secret Santa 2017

by GingerTodgers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Art Galleries, Baking, Christmas, Chubby Scorpius, Depression Recovery, Double Dating, F/F, F/M, Fat positive, Grudders, Hot Chocolate, Huddling For Warmth, Hugs, Humour, M/M, Magical Opticians, Morning After, Mulled wine, Quidditch, Secret Santa, Swearing, Texting, mince pies, stretch marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-09 02:59:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 10,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12878748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerTodgers/pseuds/GingerTodgers
Summary: A collection of festive ficlets requested by tumblr users throughout December 2017.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mxlfoydraco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxlfoydraco/gifts), [LLAP115](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLAP115/gifts), [shiftylinguini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini/gifts), [Writcraft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/gifts), [snowgall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowgall/gifts), [frnklymrshnkly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frnklymrshnkly/gifts), [unadulteratedstorycollector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadulteratedstorycollector/gifts), [TDCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TDCat/gifts), [carpemermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpemermaid/gifts), [aibidil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aibidil/gifts), [silvered_glass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvered_glass/gifts), [gracie137](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracie137/gifts), [zeitgeistic (faire_weather)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faire_weather/gifts), [Innytoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innytoes/gifts).



> Requests are still open [here](http://gingertodgers.tumblr.com/post/167979764465/harry-potter-mini-secret-santa), happy holidays!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva McG/Poppy Pomfrey - 1st December
> 
> from devinesis for writcraft, Minerva McG/Poppy Pomfrey: castle mistletoe infestation, students are taking up too much of their time, hot cocoa.

 

“Oh no you don’t.” Poppy’s shout was accompanied by the fizzle of a stinging hex and Minerva turned just in time to watch a wide-eyed 6th year Ravenclaw scurry off up the corridor, rubbing his arse. “He was about to push you under the mistletoe,” said Poppy.

“For the love of… ahem, yes, thank you Madam Pomfrey,” Minerva sighed. She dismissed the pair of grinding  Gryffindors she had been in the middle of lecturing and waited until they were out of sight before stalking over to where Poppy was conjuring a comfortable sofa out of one of the tapestries.

“Now Minnie,” Poppy started. “It was only a small hex and-”

“Poppy,” Minerva interrupted, applying gentle pressure to her own temples. “I must be seen to maintain order among both the students and my members of staff. The board of governors-”

“I know dear,” Poppy’s hands settled on Minerva’s forearms, strong thumbs massaging the tense muscles. Lowering her arms, Minerva settled both hands on Poppy’s shoulders, allowing herself to be slowly pulled down into the sofa.

“You really cannot hex the students,” she said, her voice trailing off as Poppy kissed her cheek.

“Of course not,” Poppy smiled, glancing up at the mistletoe now hovering above them and then pressing another kiss to Minerva’s lips. “Here, drink your cocoa,” she produced a steaming mug, topped with squirty cream, “and tell me about how many students you’ve caught kissing under that dratted weed.”

“Well,” Minerva looked across the mug at Poppy. “If we are including ex-students among that number then you and I bring the total up to 27.”

“27?” Poppy beamed, picking up Minerva’s free hand and giving the cold-swollen knuckles a quick kiss. “My, my, some things never change. Now, let me see if I can guess which house the trio hailed from…”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley - 2nd December
> 
> from carpemermaid for shiftylinguini, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley: a warm bath after a cold day playing Quidditch, wine

“I’ve had enough of this,” said Luna, turning to pass the hot mug of cinnamon and clove scented wine back over her shoulder to Ginny. “You have the rest.”

The transfer of wine caused the rosy bath bubbles to lap over the side of the tub and one of the candles balanced on the rim sputtered and extinguished. Luna leant forward to relight it, exposing her long pale back to Ginny’s sleepy gaze.

“Leave it,” said Ginny, running her free hand up Luna’s spine. “‘S nice in the dark.”

“You sound like you’re about to fall asleep,” Luna looked back over her shoulder at Ginny, “maybe I should take that wine back.”

“‘M fine,” Ginny heard her voice slur as she watched the steam from the bath dampen the soft tendrils of hair framing Luna’s face. “It’s just nice and warm in here. That’s all. Long,” she broke off to yawn, a bit of the wine sloshing out of the mug as she covered her mouth, “long game.”

Luna’s soft laugh lapped against Ginny as she turned to bring them face-to-face. “Well you were marvellous,” she pressed a kiss to Ginny’s lips, “and breathtaking,” another kiss to the underside of Ginny’s jaw, “and…”

“And?” Ginny let her legs fall open a little more, slipping lower in the bath and tipping her head back as Luna kissed down her neck.

“And,” said Luna, smiling as her lips brushed the hollow of Ginny’s throat, “and I think you just spilt mulled wine down my back.”

“Shit.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” said Luna, turning to pass the hot mug of cinnamon and clove scented wine back over her shoulder to Ginny. “You have the rest.”

The transfer of wine caused the rosy bath bubbles to lap over the side of the tub and one of the candles balanced on the rim sputtered and extinguished. Luna leant forward to relight it, exposing her long pale back to Ginny’s sleepy gaze.

“Leave it,” said Ginny, running her free hand up Luna’s spine. “‘S nice in the dark.”

“You sound like you’re about to fall asleep,” Luna looked back over her shoulder at Ginny, “maybe I should take that wine back.”

“‘M fine,” Ginny heard her voice slur as she watched the steam from the bath dampen the soft tendrils of hair framing Luna’s face. “It’s just nice and warm in here. That’s all. Long,” she broke off to yawn, a bit of the wine sloshing out of the mug as she covered her mouth, “long game.”

Luna’s soft laugh lapped against Ginny as she turned to bring them face-to-face. “Well you were marvellous,” she pressed a kiss to Ginny’s lips, “and breathtaking,” another kiss to the underside of Ginny’s jaw, “and…”

“And?” Ginny let her legs fall open a little more, slipping lower in the bath and tipping her head back as Luna kissed down her neck.

“And,” said Luna, smiling as her lips brushed the hollow of Ginny’s throat, “and I think you just spilt mulled wine down my back.”

“Shit.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius Black/Reader - 3rd December
> 
> from messrsprongsfoot for gobletofweasley, Sirius Black/Reader: the name Fatima, secret santa, get together

“Come on,” Sirius grinned and patted his knee as Fatima made her way across the common room. All the seats were full, Gryffindors crowding in front of the fire and sprawling across the floor drank cocoa and munched ice-mice as they waited for the Secret Santa to begin.

An annoyed tut from Lily decided matters and Fatima settled into Sirius’ lap while managing to avoid eye contact. His arms immediately wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer into what was, admittedly, a more comfortable position.

“Alright?” his breath tickled her ear.

“Yep,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the tree. “Sitting on the pointiest knees in Hogwarts but other than that it’s all good.”

“Well,” he snorted, placing a small, plain box in her hand, “please allow me to formally apologise for the state of the Black knees and offer you this small token as restitution.” Fatima heard Sirius stop breathing as she eased open the present and blinked down at the brooch inside.

“This was your sister’s,” she didn’t mean to say anything but his arms tightened around her in a way that made her feel like it was ok to have guessed so quickly.

“It’s supposed to be a secret,” he huffed.

“Maybe don’t go giving out unique family treasures, then,” she said, stroking a finger over the black bead at the centre of the brooch.

“Shut up” he took it from her and awkwardly pinned it to the collar of her robe. “It looks good, don’t make a fuss.”

“Oh, well now I have to,” she grinned, finally looking up at him. He rolled his eyes, grinning back, and they were too busy kissing in the corner to notice James’ howls of rage as he unwrapped a pair of fluffy reindeer antlers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley - 4th December
> 
> from silveredglass for charlotte-bird, Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley: dance music, blackberries, full moon.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Ginny collapsed onto the grass, dark brown eyes fixed on Pansy. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“What a waste of an evening,” Pansy replied, eyes fixed on the bonfire. She had been looking at the moon, hanging full and gold above the forest, but gazing at the moon felt like a dangerous activity when Ginny was nearby.

“Not really, I’m found you, haven’t I?” said Ginny, nudging Pansy’s shoulder and then ducking her head to force eye contact.

Scowling, Pansy turned back to the fire and watched the silhouettes of their classmates dancing. Millicent had finally worked out how to tune the wireless into a Muggle dance station without causing it to belch purple smoke rings and the music spilled across the grass.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said Ginny, reaching over to nudge Pansy. “Why aren’t you dancing? With me?”

“Why would I dance with you?” Pansy kept her eyes on the fire, swallowing thickly as she felt Ginny shift closer to her.

“Um... because you want to?”

“I don’t... I’m not... fuck off, Weasley,” Pansy bounced to her feet as Ginny started sniggering. “Run along and bother someone else.”

“Looks like you’re the one running away, Parkinson.” Ginny scrambled to her feet, the bonfire illuminating a copper halo around her face as she stared at Pansy. “Stop doing that, it’s annoying. Come on,” she took a step forward, “dance with me?”

Pansy glared down at Ginny’s small freckled hand and frantically reminded herself of all the reasons why she had vowed to ignore the youngest Weasley at all costs. The Parkinsons may have come down in the world since the fall of Voldemort but they were not dirty little secrets.

Parkinsons did not allow themselves to be kissed breathless in dark corridors by Gryffindors who got their bravery from a glass of wine and avoided eye-contact the next day.

Parkinsons did not carry around the memory of being fed warm blackberries on cold autumn days for months, aching and hoping and feeling so unbearably frustrated that they just wanted to start tearing down the damned castle, stone by stone.

Despite all this furious self-chastisement, it didn’t really seem to matter what Parkinsons did as Pansy found herself reaching for Ginny’s hand. Again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy - 5th December
> 
> from lol-zeitgeistic for llap115, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy: Paris Metro, welcome party, winter hats.

After much trial and error Harry discovered that the only place where his mirror charm would hold long enough for more than a 10 second conversation with Draco was half-way up the Abbesses metro steps.

White snow was turning into grey slush as he was buffeted by harried commuters, one man muttered about the “idiotic English” and Harry was, miserably, forced to agree. Wrapping an arm around the railings and casting a hasty Notice-Me-Not, Harry squinted into the mirror. It was still foggy but at least he could hear Draco’s voice.

Impervious to Harry’s inability to find a decent connection for the mirror, Draco was still in full flow about all the various ways in which Harry’s three week stint at the Parisian Auror HQ was a waste of time, money, energy, and;

“-the best years of my life, squandered for the sake of your narcissistic career ambitions and-”

“Yeah I appreciate that Draco, but could we re-engage with reality for a second?” Harry sighed, trying to ignore the tension headache that was creeping up on him. “I’m already late and I-”

“Oh! Oh do forgive me!” Draco interrupted, “how selfish of me to dwell on the prospect of yet another cold and lonely night while the man I love cavorts around Paris. Please, run along to your party.”

“So dramatic,” Harry marvelled, waggling the mirror around as the picture, finally, began to come into focus. “A work dinner to meet the new team is hardly cavorting, or at least it better now be. If you’re cold put the the heating on and if you’re lonely come and join me, you ridiculous human.”

“I’m ridiculous?” Draco’s lovely, outraged face appeared in the mirror. “The person who is able to say “no” to farcical demands that he spend Christmas away from his partner is ridiculous while… while…” his voice trailed off and he peered into the mirror, squinting at Harry. “Is that my hat?”

“What?” Harry raised his free hand to play with the soft wool that was struggling to contain his riotous curls. “Um… yeah, I didn’t think you’d mind.” Draco continued to squint in silence and Harry felt a niggle of unease as he rushed to explain, “I’ve just been missing you, a bit, and I like how it fits. It’s like the top of my head is being hugged and…”

A soft pop terminated the connection and Harry gave a shout of annoyance, waving the mirror back and forth. He tried to call for Draco again but was met with silence and then…

“Do come along, Potter.” Draco was standing at the top of the metro steps, a warm smile betraying his haughty words.

“You… you’re here?”

“Indeed, excellent observation skills, you’ll be Head Auror within the year and-” whatever Draco was planning to say next was interrupted by Harry’s warm, insistent mouth.

Needless to say, they were very, very late for the party.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret santa who requested this wanted to remain anonymous and it was for Drarry with depression recovery and hurt/comfort/fluff.
> 
> Obviously acknowledging that someone is depressed is only one step but for me it was the first step towards recovery and so I wanted to give that to Harry and Draco. 
> 
> Last thing: do what this lovely person did and watch out for your friends, especially around this time of year.

 

Their first Christmas together Harry had insisted on purchasing one of Luna’s hand-crafted, fair-trade, Nargle Nativity Scene calendars. It took Draco another 12 months to convince Harry that buying a Honeydukes Chocolate Frog calendar was not “cheating”.

By the time their third Christmas together came around Draco was confident that the calendar would no longer be an issue and in a way he was right. Because on the 1st of December, when Draco stumbled downstairs to make them both an early morning tea, there was no advent calendar in sight.

“Muffhghh,” Harry shrugged, sleepily sipping tea, his free hand tangled with Draco’s on top of the duvet. “Just forgot, we can get one tomorrow.” Draco hummed and went back to playing with Harry’s hair as they finished their tea, but a few weeks later he realised that they never had got around to getting a new calendar.

Despite making elaborate shopping lists for the Christmas dinner, Harry didn’t mange to make his traditional mince pies. Carol singers were given ready made mulled wine, rather than the home recipe Harry had spent the last few years perfecting.

Instead of buying and writing Christmas cards Harry suggested emails for their Muggle friends and replicating notes for the Magical ones. And Harry was too tired to go skating at the weekends, telling Draco to take Teddy instead.

When Draco asked about getting a tree, Harry suggested that they just get a small one, pointing out that they’d be spending most of the holidays at the Weasley house, anyway. 

None of this particularly bothered Draco. Christmas had always been a rather fraught affair at Malfoy Manor and he much preferred the small, peaceful Christmas days he and Harry shared.

But Harry  _loved_  Christmas. Like love, loved.

Christmas parties, carolling, present buying, present wrapping, baking, mulling, snowball fights and cosy fireside chats. Harry went all in for Christmas, to the extent that Draco suspected that Harry was more likely to leave him for an artfully trimmed tree than an attractively trimmed human.

In the days leading up to Christmas Draco began to wake from half-formed dreams where Harry crept out of bed, whispering that he couldn’t sleep and was going to read for a bit. Dark circles appeared under Harry’s eyes and - no matter how much he napped - refused to go away.

Harry’s appetite, always hearty, dwindled. It wasn’t like he didn’t feel hungry, he just didn’t seem to enjoy food anymore. Draco spent a few weeks cooking Harry’s favourite meals, but December was always a busy time at the firm and while Harry ate he didn’t appear to notice when Draco missed a few nights cooking and they ended up eating sandwiches for dinner.

It was, Draco pointed out as he dragged Harry to their Healer, truly excellent timing.

“Gives us an excuse to avoid Mother’s dreadful five-fowl festive monsterosity,” Draco said as he measured out the potions that the Healer had given Harry.

“Janice has threatened to have me banned from the building if I don’t take the rest of my annual leave,” Draco explained as he owl’d into work and helped Harry into the bath.

“I’m rather looking forward to waking up on Boxing Day without a hangover,” Draco confided as he curled around Harry, locking an arm around his shivering boyfriend’s waist and pressing kisses to the nape of Harry’s neck.

A few days later, when Harry finally cracked a weak smile and told Draco to “stop panicking, m’depressed, not dying” Draco almost sobbed with relief. Although he claimed that the tears were induced by Harry’s request for a slice of Hagrid’s fruit cake “to get the potions taste out of my mouth”.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter - 7th December
> 
> from acciotomriddle for Mxlfoydraco, Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter: friends to lovers, hot cocoa, and Christmas baking for Mxlfoydraco

It was snowing and Teddy was making minty hot chocolate when his phone rang.

“Alright Jamie boy?” he answered, popping the call on loudspeaker as he carefully measured out another tablespoon of toothpaste.

“Ted-aayyyyy!” James sang. “Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted!”

“Got your essay handed in then?”

“Well in, mate. Well. In.”

Teddy smiled as he listened to James dance around. There was a faint crash and an “aww fuck” from James before he was back, panting happily down the line.

“You ready to come home then?”

“Born ready, T-T-Teddy.”

“Dial is down Jamesing Bean,” Teddy laughed again as James groaned at the old nickname. “Are you coming back tonight or tomorrow?”

“Tonight, Mum’s picking me up from the station at half seven and we’re going to the Burrow, you coming over?”

“Course,” said Teddy. “It’s been a while.”

“Only three months.”

“Yeah but in uni that’s a lifetime, you’ll be a broken man.”

James laughed again and Teddy grinned at the phone, reaching over to take it off speaker and moving to the window. James was implying scandalous things about Teddy’s advancing years and Teddy let him babble on for a bit.

“-I’ve missed you, Ted.”

“What was that?” Teddy realised he’d zoned out of the conversation, watching the snow.

“Said I’ve missed you, dickhead.”

“Oy!” Teddy laughed. “How does asking you to repeat something make me a dickhead?”

“You should be hanging on my every word,” said James. “Writing it all down for posterity.”

“Which is exactly what I was doing,” said Teddy. “‘s why I got distracted. Help me catch up, yeah? How do you spell ‘vainglorious wanker’?”

“Oh that’s easy! T-E-D-D-Y-L-U-P-I-” James dissolved into giggles at Teddy’s mock outraged huff.

Shaking his head, Teddy took another sip of his hot chocolate, wincing as he realised it needed more toothpaste.

“So? Do you miss me too?”

If Teddy hadn’t been distracted by trying to open the toothpaste he would have picked up on James’ faux-casual tone.

“Course I have,” he said instead.

“How much?”

“I don’t know, Jamie. A lot.”

“But how much?”

“Not sure. Probably more than I’ve ever missed anyone?”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Finally satisfied with the chocolate to mint ratio in his hot chocolate, Teddy leant back against the counter.

“So you fancy me?”

“What?” Teddy just about managed not to spray hot chocolate across the kitchen, catching most of it in his cupped hand. He did fancy Jamie but they always dicked around like this, competing to see who could make the most overblown declarations, it didn’t mean anything, it didn’t-”

“Ted? You still there?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Teddy grabbed a teatowel to wipe up the rest of the chocolate and dumped the mug in the sink. “Feels like I’ve missed something here. Why are you talking about fancying?”

“Dunno,” this time Teddy caught James’ faux-casual tone. Potters couldn’t subterfuge for shit. “Just, been thinking about you a bit.”

“Right,” Teddy didn’t really know what else to say so he waited, listening to James breath down the line.

“Thought I might as well ask,” James eventually said, sounding like he was regretting the entire conversation. “You know, in case you did but were too scared to tell me and we just ended up, like, pining for years.”

“Years? You reckon that’s how long it would have taken me to ask you out?” Teddy’s face felt funny and he realised that his cheeks actually hurt from smiling.

“Just trying to save you from yourself, Teddy.” James sounded like he was smiling a bit too.

“Well, thanks for that. I do fancy you, as it goes. So…”

“So what?” James asked, voice breathless.

Teddy smiled again, prodding his own cheeks and laughing as he said “So? So come the fuck home.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius Black/Severus Snape - 8th December
> 
> from silveredglass for writcraft - Sorry I didn’t manage any of the prompt words. Instead I got stuck on idea of Sirius getting constant awkward boners at the idea of doing normal things like going to the supermarket because he’s a Sad Posh Boy.
> 
> So we have Sirius trying to corral Severus into reenacting E.M. Forster’s ‘Maurice’ in the Morrisons freezer section and Severus having none of it.

****Severus sighed as Sirius pinned him to the side of the industrial freezer. It was 3.28pm on the last working day before Christmas and they were standing in the gluten-free aisle of the poshest supermarket Severus had ever seen. By all rights he should be sneering at the overpriced breakfast cereal and “rustic” brown sauce not-

Sirius hitched forward, pressing his face into the crook of Severus’ neck. “Mummy, what are those men doing?”

“They appear to be expressing affection, do come along Felix.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” said Severus, laughing softly as he wound his hand into the thick, heavy hair at the nape of Sirius’ neck and pulled until they were face-to-face. “Sirius, we are not going to do whatever it is you are attempting to do.”

“Oh pish,” said Sirius. “And you an educator? You should be thrilled at the chance to enlighten young Felix and I am not attempting to do anything.” 

“Really,” Severus hid a smile as he untangled himself from Sirius. “Forgive my ignorance but it does appear as if you have, once again, mistaken a tedious chore that most people undertake at least once a week for an elaborate form of foreplay.”

“Severus, my love, everything you do is an elaborate form of foreplay and I for hupmmff-” Sirius was cut off as Severus turned and pressed a hand over his mouth.

“Now listen to me, Black. I am  _not_  here for whatever chills and thrills this supermarket is giving you, do you understand me?” Severus waited for Sirius to nod and then continued. “I  _will_  complete this shopping trip without being groped behind every display stand. Are we clear?” Severus waited for Sirius to nod one more time before turning and marching away.

Abandoned, Sirius adjusted his slightly-too-tight trousers, took a deep breath, muttered “challenge accepted”, and ambled towards the fruit and veg aisle.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy - 9th December
> 
> from anon for snowgall, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy: art galleries, bells.

Potter was late. Very late. Very very very very very very- Draco stopped to cast a discreet Tempus to check how very very later Potter was. Twenty minutes. Twenty whole minutes that Draco had spent rattling around The National Gallery foyer, buffeted by crowds, eyed by security guards, it really was too much.  
  
Resolving - once again - to only give Potter one more minute before leaving; Draco resumed his vigil next to the information kiosk.

***

“M’drunk Mafoy,” Potter slurred, leaning back against the damp brick wall. “Want this, want you, but want to do it properly, yuh’know?” Earnest, bloodshot eyes gazed up at Draco.

“Of course, of course, I… I…” Draco trailed off, grinning helplessly at Potter who started grinning back. “I…”  
  
“You…”  
  
“I’ve wanted this, you, for a while now,” Draco exhaled, reaching forward to run his hand through the black and grey curls behind Potter’s right ear. “So…” Draco took another deep breath as Potter turned to nuzzle his wrist, “I can wait, of course. I’ll wait.”  
  
“Not for long,” said Potter, his lips moving against Draco’s wrist. “Just ‘til tomorrow. M’just drunk is all.”  
  
“Yes, I think, I might be too. I… but that’s not why this happened?” Draco took a step back, untangling his hand from Potter’s hair. Frowning, Potter hooked an arm around the small of Draco’s back and pulled him back in.  
  
“Course not, meet me tomorrow.”  
  
“Alright, where?”  
  
“Gallery, National-” Potter paused to hiccup, “Gallery. 3 o’clock, yeah?”  
  
“National Gallery, 3 o’clock.” Draco found himself smiling again.  
  
***  
  
He was a fool, a sentimental fool who should have known better. Finally leaving the National Gallery, Draco was met by a gust of freezing sleet. Trafalgar Square was crammed with shoppers and tourists, a group of shivering buskers were playing Jingle Bells on steelpans.  
  
“So this is hell”, Draco thought to himself as he hustled his way through the crowd. The nearest Floo-point was Charing Cross Station but after nearly colliding with a hen party Draco turned left.  
  
Heading up St. Martin’s Place, Draco wrapped his arms around himself. It hurt. The promise of Potter, the lack of Potter. All the important parts of Draco had been scooped out by Potter’s green eyes and dopey smile and now the only thing left was hurt.  
  
The traffic roared as he stumbled along, so distracted by the sleet and the pain that he almost didn’t hear the shout.  
  
“Oy Malfoy!” A hand latched onto Draco’s elbow and swung him around. “Didn’t think you were going to come,” Potter smiled up at Draco, white flicks of sleet sticking to his eyelashes.  
  
Huffing in outrage, Draco drew himself up to his full height, ready to unleash a world of pain. Potter’s lateness and then this near-Slytherin attempt to cast Draco as the late party was too much. It would not be born, Draco may be a Malfoy but he was also a man of blood and nerves and hopes and for Potter to play with him in this manner-  
  
Unaware of his impending doom, Potter continued to burble on, steering Draco towards a doorway where a sign welcomed visitors to London’s National Portrait Gallery.  
  
“Couldn’t remember if we said the National Gallery or the National Portrait Gallery,” Potter explained, bashfully gazing up at Draco. “But you’re here so it looks like I guessed the right one. Shall we go in?”

***

Draco never did get around to unleashing a world of pain. Instead he finally agreed to call Potter “Harry” and snogged him senseless next to a portrait of the queen’s favourite Corgi.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter - 10th December
> 
> from i-dontlike-i-obsess for def-initely-soul, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter: sweet, hilarious Ron, after a work pub night.

Texts between Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy, sent the morning after the Auror Christmas  ~~Piss-up~~  Party

HP > RW

Mate I’ve fucked up.

RW > HP

Unless the Ministry is under attack or Mum’s taken up paleo again there is no reason for you to be having a crisis on my phone at 5-fucking-shitting-fucking-am on a Saturday.

HP > RW

Right. Happy to report that the Ministry and your Mum’s intestines are both fine. I slept with Draco.

Slept like had sex with him.

3 times.

Honestly bit impressed with myself.

RW > HP

What?

HP > RW

Impressed at having managed it 3 times.

RW > HP

No, the ‘what’ was about the sleeping with Draco bit.

Tho’ nice one, most I’ve ever managed was 8 times in a row but good effort.

HP > RW

1\. Fuck you you jammy bastard.

2\. There’s no way. Did you hydrate?

3\. I fucking slept with fucking draco what the fuck why why why what have i done help me please.

RW > HP

Mate. It’s 5am.

HP > RW

Not helping. He’s still here, still asleep. Should I wake him up?

Or maybe make him breakfast?

What’s the poshest kind of breakfast pastry? He use to like those chocolate rolls at Hogwarts but last week I saw him eating a danish.

Ron?

Ron?

Shit he just rolled over, help me ROn.

He rolled straight out of bed and went into the bathroom. What do I do? Ron?

DM > RW

Weasley I have made a grave mistake and require your assistance. For reasons I will never explain I need you make your way to Potter’s house and engage him in conversation for at least 20 minutes. Preferably in the kitchen.

RW > DM

What’s your favourite kind of breakfast pastry?

DM > RW

Almond croissant. Will you help me? In Slytherin we would take up arms and lay down our lives for our friends. Can I hope that the same flame of loyalty burns in the Gryffindor hearth?

Ronald?

Ron please respond, time is of the essence.

RW > HP

Draco likes almond croissants and he’s fancied you for the last 3 years. He’s also freaking out in the bathroom. Text me again and I will kill you.

RW > DM

Harry fancies you. Turning off my phone now, night night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy - 11th December
> 
> from frnklymrshnkly for tdcatsblog and unadulteratedstorycollector, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy: gingerbread house, non-fetishised eating, competitive streak.

Headmistress McGonagall sighed with disappointment when she saw the two students waiting in her office.

Potter was flushed, a stripe of icing sugar obscuring his famous scar and dusting the hair pulled back from his face.

Malfoy was even paler than usual, the green edible glitter staining his finger tips and a rouge jelly-tot lodged in the collar of his robes the only sign that he’d ever even heard the words “food fight”.

“Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy,” she said, taking a seat. “Professor Flitwick informs me that you are the pair responsible for disrupting the Gingerbread Hogwarts Tournament?”

“He started it-”

“Potter was the one who-”

“Gentlemen,” McGonagall raised a hand. “I am not interested in the whys and wherefores of this regrettable situation. My concern lies with the younger students who saw hours of hard work destroyed by your selfish and tediously predictable actions.”

To their credit, both men looked immediately concerned.

“Are the firsties alright?” Potter asked. “We didn’t mean to frighten anyone, Headmistress.”

“It was supposed to be a bit of fun,” said Malfoy, leaning forward and dislodging the rouge jelly-tot. “Some casual banter among friends. I am very sorry that it got so-”

“Banter,” Potter snorted, causing Malfoy to sit up straight again.

“Yes banter, Potter.”

“Alright,” Potter held up both hands, smirking as he mouthed “banter” to himself.

“Do we have a problem, Potter?” demanded Malfoy, his voice laced with sugar and poison. “Perhaps I am mispronouncing the word, should I deploy a soft “ahhh” or is it the German-”

“I don’t know Malfoy, maybe you should check with your boyfriend. Seeing as you clearly picked it up from him.”

“My… I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“He’s lying,” Potter turned to inform the Headmistress, who in turn reassured Potter that she really, really, did not care. “You do, I saw you with Ben in Hogsmeade,” Potter turned back to Malfoy. “There’s no way you started using words like “banter” on your own.”

“I assume you are talking about Ben,” said Malfoy, glaring at Potter. “Pansy’s boyfriend.”

“A likely- what? He’s… Pansy boyfriend.”

“Exactly.”

“But you were in Hogsmeade…”

“With Pansy.”

“Oh.”

“Quite.”

Silence fell as the two men stared at one another. Malfoy appeared to be trying not to smile while Potter turned purple and nervously playing with the hem of his own jumper.

Sensing that they might be here for a while, the Headmistress sat back and summoned her emergency biscuits.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cho Chang/Padma Patil - 12th December 
> 
> from magpiefngrl for frnklymrshnkly, Cho Chang/Padma Patil: rain, spoil.

The gifts started appearing in the winter of Cho’s second year at Hogwarts. Three pressed daisies, tied with a silver ribbon. A plump conker, polished until it shone. A slightly squashed Ice Mouse. The gifts appeared every Tuesday throughout December, briefly admired by the aspiring Ravenclaw Seeker and swiftly forgotten about.

Cho’s third year saw the Tuesday December gifts return, although her roommates insisted that she give them a more romantic name.

“How about Diggory’s Donations?” Marietta suggested, seconds before Cho attempted to pummel her to death with a pillow.

They eventually decided just to call them “The Gifts”, as a piece of artfully twisted copper wire, a slice of carrot cake and a sprig of holly didn’t exactly scream romance.

By her fourth year Cho knew that The Gifts must come from a Ravenclaw, sadly crossing Cedric off her lists of suspects. Judging by how much the quality of The Gifts had improved, the giver was probably also a third year who’d been finally let loose on Hogsmeade.

A pair of shoelaces that flashed when they were in danger of coming untied, a peacock feather quill, a bag of exploding bonbons. Cho began to look forward to Tuesdays, racing to be the first back to the dormitories after lunch.

The gift giver really upped their game during Cho’s fifth year at Hogwarts, possibly in reaction to how much time she’d been spending with Cedric. A new pair of heart-shaped Quidditch goggles were the first gift, appearing on Cho’s pillow as the first snow fell.

Deciding not to tell Cedric about The Gifts, Cho wore the goggles to every practice. Seeing a group of students watching from the stands, Cho felt a small thrill at the idea that the gift giver might be watching her show off the goggles.

Next was a wooden Liondragon, painted in the Ravenclaw colours and charmed to blow puffs of smoke whenever Cho was running late. There was also a note, ‘i’s dotted with miniature daisies.

“Sorry,” the note said. “She was supposed to fly but I’m rubbish at charms.”

Cho kept the note in her wand holster, occasionally pulling it out to smooth the rapidly curling paper. She’d seen those daisies dotted ‘i’s before, on the 6ft long essays and discarded ingredients lists strewn around the Ravenclaw common room.

December flew by and all thoughts of identifying the person behind The Gifts disappeared the moment Cedric entered the Triwizard Tournament Maze.

The condolence card was signed by the whole house, but only one person’s signature included a daisy. Closing the card and forcing herself not to throw it in the nearest bin, Cho decided not to think about Padma Patil right now. Maybe next year.

It was during Cho’s sixth year that The Gifts stopped appearing, and it took her until the first Friday of the month to even notice. A brief pang of disappointment was quickly pushed aside as she trained with Dumbledore’s Army.

The Patil twins were part of the group as well, laughing together as they practised shield charms. They looked like they were having fun and Cho thought about wandering over to say “hello”, but then a shimmering swan erupted from the end of her wand and she forgot about it.

Cho’s last year at Hogwarts saw The Gifts return. They were practical, designed to help her with her NEWTS and showing none of the whimsy or playfulness of previous years. An obscure book on the Goblin Wars, a roll of fresh parchment.

If Cho didn’t notice when Padma stopped leaving her gifts, she definitely noticed when they stopped being fun. As parents pulled their children out of the school and the professors upped their patrols to four, five, six times a night, Cho found herself digging out the flashing shoelaces.

She wore them to breakfast the next day, glancing out from under her fringe to see if Padma had notice. Dark winged eyebrows drew together in confusion, as Padma stared at Cho’s feet and tipped a spoonful of hot porridge into her own lap.

Deciding not to give it too much thought, Cho wore the heart-shaped goggled to practice that afternoon. Soon a small figure appeared on the pitch, standing hands on hips as Cho circled in the air above.

Padma was gone by the time Cho landed, but that night a gingerbread swan was sitting on Cho’s bedside table. It was still hot, sticky and sweet on Cho’s tongue as she pulled out the peacock feather quill and began making a list of all the things that she knew Padma liked.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy - 13th December
> 
> for carpemermaidtales from lol-zeitgeistic, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy: Hufflepuff, Jurassic Park, figs.

“Potter. Pst, Potter! Do you think it would be possible to have a T-Rex as a patronus?” Harry swallowed as Draco’s whisper caused every head in the Hufflepuff common room to turn in their direction.

Mary, the rather jolly President of the Hufflepuff Film Club, had installed the pair of them in a bright purple armchair at the back the room. It was a snug fit, with Draco’s legs sort of flopped over Harry and his hair tickling Harry’s nose.

Not only was it a snug fit, it was also painfully obvious that most of the room was more interested in watching Harry and Draco than in watching Jeff Goldblum take his shirt off.

“You alright over there, Draco?” Mary asked as she picked her way through the Hufflepuffs sitting on the floor.

“Ah, just, ah, just fine, thank you Mary,” said Draco, blushing as he noticed that someone had gone as far as to pause the film. Although that might have been something to do with the fact that the screen was now completely filled by Jeff’s chest hair.

“You sure? Do you and Harry want any snacks? Maybe a bowl of figgy pudding?”

“We’re fine, thanks Mary,” Harry hurried to answer.

“What is figgy pudding?” asked Draco. “Is it Muggle? Harry is teaching me about Muggles,” he informed Mary, who beamed back and summoned a steaming bowl.

“It is! The proper way to eat it is by feeding it to each other!” She gave Harry a wink that was probably visible from space, handed Draco a bowl of pudding and turned back to the screen as Dear Jeff’s chest began undulating again.

“Well, Potter?” Draco was holding out a spoon of figgy pudding, a hopeful look in his eyes. Swallowing again, Harry opened his mouth.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy - 14th December
> 
> from goldentruth813 for aibidil, Albus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy: established relationship/realistic body/realistic sex scenes.

**Albus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy - 14th December in the HP Secret Santa**    
(Happy holidays [@aibidil](https://tmblr.co/mUHhW9WdfNgESCRkWDt4p5A) and thanks for the ask [@goldentruth813](https://tmblr.co/mQSZmRGcQpMokxxDbKaG71g), you wonderful flatterer! I really enjoyed writing this)  
  
 _one more spot left, details of how to request are[here](http://gingertodgers.tumblr.com/post/168390232000/gt-secret-santa-update)_

“Hold still,” murmured Al, reaching for a bit of kitchen roll to wipe the excess emerald paint off the tip of his brush.

“It’s, ah. it’s not easy,” said Scorpius, wiggling again. “You’re breathing on me.”

“You like it when I breathe,” Al reached for the tube of gold and selected a smaller brush.

“In so much as it indicates that you are alive, yes, I do like you breathing. But you are breathing  _on_  me and it tickles.”

When Al glanced up Scorpius’ face was pink, the flush creeping down his neck and across his shoulders.

“You’re not ticklish,” said Al.

“My stomach is.”

“Oh.” They stared at one another for a moment, then Scorpius leant back against the pile of cushions. “Do you want me to stop?” Albus really didn’t want to stop.

The sun coming through their bedroom window was making the gold lines he’d traced along the curve of Scorpius’ belly glitter. It was the first time in months that Scorpius had allowed Al to look at him for this long.

“No,” Scorpius’ voice wobbled. “No I always said I wanted you to paint me and-”

“You have literally never said that.”

“Well,” a huff of breath. “I always thought it. Although I imagined that you would be putting the paint on the canvas, rather than, ah, onto my body but it’s… it’s nice. Is it nice for you? Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes,” said Al. “Yes this is very much what I wanted.” He returned to the green and began painting a curling fern down Scorpius’ thigh, using one of the longest stretch marks as a guide for the stem. “So you’ve thought about this?”

“A bit, it feels like something we should have done years ago.”

“It wouldn’t have looked as good on you years ago.”

“You’re sure?”

Al rolled his eyes at the question. Pressing gently on Scorpius’ calf until the other man raised crooked his leg, Al continued painting.

“I’m painting, you are naked, I am touching your nakedness while still painting. What part of that scenario would I not be sure and actually rather pleased about?”

“Well I just thought…”

“Yes?”

“It might be even, ah, you might prefer it if you were, ah, naked too?”

Al barked out a laugh, chucked his paintbrush on the floor and started struggling out of his hoodie.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy - 15th December
> 
> from secretlycrazyhummingbird for macremme, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy: fluff+hugs+Auror!Harry
> 
> told from Ron/Hermione POV

“What are they doing?”

The Leaky’s backroom was crammed with off-duty Aurors and smelled like the inside of a whiskey barrel. Despite being such a tight fit, a space had been created in the centre of the room.

“Ron?” Hermione gave her partner another poke and, when he turned to grin down at her, squirmed under his arm. “Well? What’s going on?”

“Hey love,” he bent down the kiss the top of her head. “How was your day? Did-”

“Ronald.”

“Right, sorry. Forgot that it was actually illegal for me to pay my girlfriend any attention when Harry Potter is within a 20 mile radius. Maybe I should arrest myself?”

“Oh hush,” she reached up to give him a proper kiss. “I had a lovely day, thank you. I missed you. Now, please tell me why everyone is standing around watching Harry and Draco hug?”

“I see that you don’t want to know about my day, alright, alright!” Ron held up his hands in surrender, laughing at her huff of frustration and turning back to gaze at Harry and Draco. “Well,” he gently moved Hermione so that she was standing in front of him and hooked his chin over her shoulder. “Draco’s been complaining about the Secret Santa for the last month, says it’s a waste of time and a crude attempt by Social Sec to guarantee everyone turns up to the party.”

“Well he’s not wrong.”

“Of course he’s not, smug bastard rarely is. But it turns out that he got Harry.”

“Oh…” Hermione drew out of the word.

“Exactly. And guess what he got Harry, in order to protest the Secret Santa, of course.”

“A cock ring?”

“No,” Ron sniggered. “He got Harry a certificate for ten hugs.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“And of course Harry being Harry…”

“Mmmhmm, he tried to call Draco’s bluff.”

As the pair of them watched in glee, Harry’s right hand started to minutely stroke Draco’s back. Draco stiffened, shifting so that his hips were a no longer quite as close to Harry’s.

“Oh this is torturous,” Hermione sighed. “I want wine but I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Got you covered, love.” Ron produced the small leopard print hip flask that Ginny had given him last Christmas.

“Ever the strategist,” Hermione smiled, taking the flask and pressing a kiss to his knuckles as she kept her eyes fixed on Harry’s roving hand.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter/Reader - 16th December
> 
> from anon for lupinlys, Harry Potter/Reader: "fluffy, where she’s a keeper for her house and harry notices her and he’s like woaH i must y’all to her hot chocolate, big glasses, hogsmeade"

You run into each other at Squints & Squats, the new optician-slash-gym that’s opened in Hogsmeade. The grunts of witches lifting weights filter through to the optician side of the shop and you’re just about to ask the receptionist to put the radio on when the door bangs open and Harry Potter stumbles into the shop.

“Sorry, sorry, I ah, I have an appointment?”

“Here’s a form, take a seat.” The receptionist doesn’t even raise his eyes from a battered copy of  _The Passionate Poltergeist_.

“Urm, thanks.” Turning, form clutched in hand, Harry scans the waiting room, green eyes sweeping over you before settling on the free chair. “Hello” he says, fumbling his snowy robes into a bundle and dropping his pen a few times before finally sitting down. “You’re the new Slytherin Keeper, right?”

“Yep,” you watch in amusement as he drops the pen again and nearly tears the form in half. “Do you need a hand with that?”

“Um, maybe?” he shoots you a nervous smile. “I’ve never been to an optician before, how does it work?”

“Oh, a bit like the Muggle opticians, they’ve just got more floating lenses and run some diagnostic spells.” You hide a smile as he nods and drops the form again.

“Right, um. I haven’t really been to a Muggle optician either?”

“But you have glasses. Didn’t your Muggle family-” You immediately want to smack yourself in the forehead. Everyone knows about the way the Muggles treated Harry Potter. “Sorry, sorry. Never mind. Um, well they show you a chart with letters-”

You carry on explaining how the optician works, throwing in a few comments about how great it is to finally have one so close, rather than having to travel down to London. He nods along, and then the two of you work through the form which vanishes as soon as it’s completed, reappearing in front of the receptionist.

“Thanks for this,” Harry says, biting his bottom lip. “Would you, um, I’m meeting my friends at The Broomsticks later, would you like to come? With me?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy - 17th December
> 
> from anon for llap15, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy: crups, snow, broom racing.

Draco’s nose was turning red from the cold, a sure sign that his warming charm was about the fizzle out. The racers were long gone, the spectators were warming up inside the clubhouse and Draco was sulking on the balcony that overlooked the course.

Pansy had tried to convince Draco to go inside but Draco had just shaken his head, returning her rueful smile. It was the first time they’d both missed the Boxing Day Broom Races, a sprained ankle forcing Pansy to bow out and leaving Draco to pair up with Harry.

Harry. He loved the races almost as much as Pansy did. Pairing up with Chang for the last four years, their team had competed with Draco and Pansy for the cup, alternating second and first place.

Racing  _with_  Harry, rather  _against_  him, was going to be odd enough and Draco really would have appreciated a little more warning than a one-line note on the day of the race.

“Sorry Draco, something’s come up. Will explain later.”

Harry’s use of a code name, signing the note “Harry X” rather than “Harry Potter”, was especially mystifying. With a huff of frustration, Draco finally did what he’d been wanting to do for the last hour and Apparated to Grimmauld Place.

***

Draco was having fairly certain that he was having a minor medical incident. Evidently Harry thought so too as he was gazing at Draco in alarm while simultaneously trying to hold the door open for Draco to come in and contain an armful of squirming…

“Are those cruppies?” Draco’s voice sounded about four decibels lower than normal and he swayed slightly, clutching at the door frame as one of the baby crups reached up and… and… licked Harry’s nose. Oh. This was just.

“Yeah Hagrid dumped them on me this morning, said something about coming back in a few hours and, ahh-” Harry interrupted himself to capture one of the squirming crups and kicked the door shut behind Draco.

Because Draco was somehow inside Harry’s house now, with a million plump crup babies falling over his feet.

Opening his mouth to say… something… Draco promptly shut it again when Harry crouched down to pet the cruppies. He was still talking, apologising again for missing the race, for making Draco miss the race, but Draco just…

“Draco? You alright? Can I get you a tea or something?” Harry stood, holding one of the smaller crups close to his chest as he smiled at Draco. The crup had a tiny green bowtie, the same colour as Harry’s eyes and Draco was… Draco was… Draco was in so much trouble.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg Goyle/Neville Longbottom - 18th December
> 
> from magpiefngrl for aibidil and gracie137, Greg Goyle/Neville Longbottom: Baker!Greg, Hench!Neville, mince pies, kitchen sink, domestic fluff.

It had been a crap day. During the lunch rush an umbrella had smashed one of the display stands, sending a shower of broken glass into the Teeny-Trifles Greg had got up at 4am to finish. Then the shop was dead for the rest of the day, meaning that most of the stock had to be chucked.

And now, after a faulty Floo connection had rerouted him to the Willoughby Wasps changing rooms (sadly empty), Greg had arrived home to find that his flat was on fire. Or at least the oven was on fire which — for a baker — was kind of the most important part of the flat.

Spelling away the clouds of black smoke and shooting an Aguamenti at whatever was burning on the hob, Greg opened the oven door to find a tray of charcoal. Right. On the table was a sticky jar of mincemeat, sticky bottle of whiskey, a sticky, half-melted pat of butter, and an empty tub of protein powder.

All signs pointed to one culprit and, trying to smooth the smile off his face, Greg made for the bedroom where Neville was sprawled on the bed, still in his gym gear. A puddle of drool was collecting on Greg’s pillow.

Kicking off his boots, Greg rolled Neville onto his side and snuggled in behind him. It was a bit of a tight fit, between Greg’s baking and Neville’s weight-training both of them were packing more muscles and curves than a single bed was designed to handle.

Neville was starting to make noises about Greg getting a bigger bed, about the two of them getting a bigger flat. Together. It was a conversation that Greg kept ducking out of, insisting that until Neville could do more than heat up pot noodles and unwrap protein bars he was not going anywhere near Greg’s Mauviel Cookware.

Now, nuzzling into the soft, slightly damp hair at the nape of Neville’s neck, Greg found himself reconsidering this stance.

“Greg?” Neville jerked awake, flailing slightly when he found himself pinned under Greg’s hefty forearm. “Wazzat, what’s that smell? Is something burning?”

“Mmm? S’nothing. Next door burnt their dinner,” Greg lied, tugging Neville even closer. “Heard them ordering a take away.”

“Oh, s’shame,” Neville yawned, burrowing back into the pillow. “Thought it might be the mince pies.”

“They’re fine, love. Sorry I ate them all, was hungry after work.”

“S’alright,’ Neville yawned again, drifting back to sleep. “Made ‘em for you, show I can cook.”

“Yeah, suppose you can.”

“So can we move in together then?”

“Course,” Greg smiled, letting his own eyes fall closed. “’M’looking forward to more of your cooking.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy - 19th December
> 
> from owlpostart for silveredglass, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy: antlers, cricket (the bug, not the sport!) and Forbidden Forest.

****Harry didn’t stop running until he broke through the last line of trees. His trainers were leaking, leaf-mulch working its way inside to rub against new blisters. Bending forward, Harry placed his hands on his thighs as he gulped down air. Fuck.

He…

Fuck.

With a crash and a curse that was either ‘bloody cunt bucket’ or ‘ delightful punk muppet’, Draco slide to a halt beside Harry. He had leaves in his hair, the wet greenery making his cheeks look even pinker than usual.

“Potter, what the f-”

“Don’t even start,” Harry interrupted, holding up a hand.

“Start? Start what? I’m not-” Draco paused to gulp some air, “I’m not starting anything. Dear me, can’t a man-”

“Did you just say deer?” Harry swung around to face him, eyes wild.

“What? I… Oh! No! No no no! I would never…” Draco trailed off, mouth working frantically.

“You said deer.”

“I didn’t,” Draco retreated back into the forest as Harry advanced.

“Fuck you. You think this is funny?”

“No!” Draco’s back collided with a tree. “Well… it is maybe a little, tiny, bit funny.” The last few words were shouted as Harry lost his temper completely and grabbed Draco around the waist, tumbling the pair of them onto the wet grass.

Draco fought back, grabbing hold of Harry’s hoodie and trying to flip the two of them over while avoiding the handful of grass that Harry had ripped from the ground.

“Eat it, Malfoy. Eat the grass,” Harry panted, attempting to stuff the wet handful into Draco’s mouth. “Isn’t that what stags do? Fucking eat it.”

“No! Get… get… off… me…” said Draco, squirming further out from underneath Harry with each word. “Look, Potter. I’m sorry about the animagus thing but you really blowing this out of all proportion.”

“Blowing it out of proportion?” Harry staggered to his feet, lurching closer to Draco who, in turn, skipped back a few feet. “Is that another size joke? Because I’m a cricket?”

“Well, I…”

“And how the fucking fuck are you a stag?” Harry carried on, pacing back and forth. “My  _patronus_  is a stag. My  _dad’s animagus_  was a stag. How am I a cricket and… and…” It was like he physically felt the fight go out of him. Plopping down on the grass, Harry stared unseeingly back at Hogwarts.

“And I’m a stag?” Draco moved closer, casting a drying charm before gingerly sitting down next to Harry. Harry felt the drying charm nudge up against his arse and felt a twinge of gratitude for Draco’s thoughtful spellwork. Even if the charm was a bit intrusive. “You heard what Hagrid said,” Draco continued, ducking his head to try and catch Harry’s eye. “An animagus takes a while to settle. Just because you’re a cricket now doesn’t mean you’ll be one forever. And I assume that I will have at most a week as a noble stag before settling into life as a ferret.”

Harry grimaced at Draco’s words but it was difficult to maintain and he found himself smiling down at the ripped up grass. Encouraged, Draco started smiling, too.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley - 20th December
> 
> from rachelletwin2 for darventravos, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley: a product from Wheezes, George conspiring to get them together, hot chocolate, first snow.

“I am so very sorry about this. Beyond sorry, I am sorrow itself. I am awash with regret. Beset by shame. Rueful, is what I am.” With a pitiful sigh that was only a little bit gleeful, Fred cast another spell at the snowbank growing rapidly around their feet. “Self-reproach, thy name is Fred Weasley,” he continued. “The shame, the honest to Merlin shame is-”

“Do me a favour Fred?” Hermione attempted to lift a foot out of the snow, only for the snowbank to wrap even tighter around her ankles.

“Yes Hermione?”

“If you could just stop talking for a while, just a for a little bit, that would be marvellous.”

“Of course, of course!” Fred mimed zipping his mouth shut. They were standing very close together, Hermione’s right side pressing a line of warmth against Fred’s chest.

The light above the door of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes made her glow and sent spirals of gold through her cloud of hair. Then she shivered and Fred parked all thoughts of snow-spun angels in favour of shrugging off his hoodie in the most dashing way possible.

“Why isn’t anyone else getting stuck?” Hermione asked, indicating the busy shoppers squeezing past and even walking straight over the snow without becoming trapped.

“Interesting question, young Granger. The portable Winter Wonderland is part of our Weasley’s Wonderful Wooing range and, it, ah, well yes, quite interesting how that came about. You see it turns out that back in the 1400’s a young chap by the name of Fillius Flobber had the bright idea to-”

“Put a sock in it,” George interrupted, appearing with three mugs of hot chocolate a rueful smile. “Really sorry about this Hermione. I’ve been going over the spell work and it turns out-”

“That the spell has evolved to only trap people who want to be trapped together?” This time Hermione interrupted, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her hot chocolate.

George barked out a laugh and began retreating towards the shop as Fred gaped down at her.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy and Greg Goyle/Dudley Dursley - 21st December
> 
> from carpemermaid for lol-zeitgeistic, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy: drarry and grudders, double date, kisses as incentives for push-ups, Muggle and wizard culture blending.

“Make them stop,” Harry moaned, hiding his face in the crook of Draco’s neck.

“Would that I could, my love,” said Draco, draining his wine glass. “Would that I could. Yet I am but one man. One lone man against the unstoppable force of a runaway train.”

“ _The Railway Children_  were kids and they managed to stop a train with nothing except a pair of red knickers,” Harry countered.

“Is that another of those Disney films? You know I don’t-” Draco was interrupted by a loud grunt from the restaurant floor.

“Make. Them. Stop.”

“One man, Harry. One man, unstoppable force. I have no power here.”

“You have all the power,” Harry hissed into Draco’s neck, pressing so close that they were practically sitting on the same chair. “Greg’s your friend, he’ll listen to you. Tell  _him_  to tell  _Dudley_  to stop.”

“Big D is your cousin,” Draco smirked as Harry shuddered at the nickname and nearly sent the bread basket flying. “Rather than using Gregory and myself as intermediaries why don’t you simply appeal to his better nature and-”

Another grunt was followed by a cheer.

“Draco, please Draco,” Harry pulled back and fixed large green eyes on Draco’s face. “He won’t listen to me. A small hex, that’s all I’m asking.”

“Muggles, Harry,” said Draco. “Muggles everywhere because  _you_  wanted to put  _your cousin_  at ease and chose a Muggle restaurant. A plan which appears to have worked rather too well, if I may say.” He nodded to the floor where Dudley let out another grunt.

“For fucks sake Dudley,” Harry snapped. “Give it a rest, you must be at 100 by now.”

“36,” Greg cheered.

“37!” Dudley corrected him, completing another push-up and stealing a kiss from Greg before collapsing back onto the restaurant floor. He had crumbs in his hair and a massive smile of his face.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson - 22nd December
> 
> from frnklymrshnkly for owlpostart and @silveredglass, Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson: first snow, driving lessons.

 

“Nice hair, are you coming over to the dark side?” Pansy Parkinson slid into the booth, eyes fixed on Ginny’s emerald curls.

“She’s signed with the Harpies,” said Ron. “They fly in green so…” he managed to simultaneously roll his eyes and cock both eyebrows.

“Shut up, Ron.” Ginny sang, eyes fixed on Pansy.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“Shut up.”

“But-”

“Hermione?” Ginny called across the bar. “Hermione! Your boyfriend is bothering me.”

“Don’t do that Ron, come and bother me instead,” Hermione called back, eyes fixed on her phone. Ron huffed but was already clambering out of the booth, making sure to hug Ginny’s head as he went.

“Getoffgetoffgetoff,” she chanted, slapping his hands away.

“Just proud of you, baby sis,” he cooed, disappearing into the crowd.

“Such a loser,” said Ginny, smiling as she turned back to Pansy. “What are you doing here? Shit, sorry. Rude. I mean, um, who are you out with tonight?”

“Oh, myself,” said Pansy, smiling back. I was supposed to be having my first driving lesson, you know those Magic Motors? Well we’d been in the car for less than a few seconds before the snow started coming down. Obviously as snow causes cars to overheat-”

“Obviously,” Ginny nodded, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Well we had to stop and I remembered Potter talking about this place so I, you know.”

“You thought you’d come and see Harry?”

“No,” Pansy sighed. “I came to see if that dreadful Weasley girl was celebrating her signing.”

“Really?” Ginny grinned. “That dreadful Weasley girl?”

“Yes. Unfortunately rather than offer to buy me a drink she picked a childish fight with her brother-”

“Made sure that she had you all to herself.”

“-and then she interrogated me-”

“Flirted with you.”

“You see? Utterly dreadful girl,” Pansy laughed, reaching forward to tangle their fingers together under the table.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius Black/Remus Lupin - 23rd December
> 
> from nbstilinski for innytoes, Wolfstar: millenial + hot chocolate, cuddling for warmth.

 

The players were in the air by the time Remus spotted Sirius, sitting high up in the stands. Sirius’ long curls whipped around in the wind and his face was twisted in a scowl that even the most loving part of Remus’ brain couldn’t label as anything other than ‘troll-like’.

Treading on toes and apologising all the way, Remus made his way over. “Alright Padfoot?” He sank down on the wooden bench, wincing at the lack of cushioning charm.

“Not really.” Up close, Sirius looked even more grumpy.

“Oh. Anything I can-”

“No.”

“Right.” Remus nodded towards the players, still circling in the air. “So they’ve not started yet?”

“No they fucking haven’t,” Sirius hunched in on himself even more, eyes still fixed on the players.

“Have you seen-”

“Dad!” a cheerful shout announced Teddy’s arrival, swooping down to grin at the pair of them. “You made it!”

“Hullo Ted, course I did.”

“Brilliant!” The aqua-haired teen did a loop-the-loop. “Can you do a warming charm on Dad? He’s not letting me do one and the game is about to start.”

“I don’t need a warming charm,” Sirius snapped, shoulders up around his ears and hands shoved deep in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“At least get him a hot chocolate or something, yeah?” Teddy happily ignored Sirius, giving Remus a quick salute before flying off to join their teammates.

“Blue looks bloody awful with yellow and black,” Sirius yelled after them. Teddy didn’t even pause, a faint chuckle floating back towards the stands.

“So shall I-”

“No you fucking shall not,” Sirius was now hunched to the point where his chin was practically touching his breastbone. “Tell me this, Remus, why,  _decades_  after graduating, why do I find myself back at this forsaken pitch, watching miserable youths-what are you doing?”

Remus had wrapped an arm around Sirius and was now casting a complicated warming charm. “Hmm?” he murmured, putting away his wand and pulling out a flask. “Oh, that charm was for me. Sorry if it’s bothering you.”

“You’re cold?” Sirius asked, twisting from his new position between Remus’ legs, back pressed to Remus’ chest.

“Afraid so,” Remus smiled. “Hot chocolate, my love?”

“I know what you’re doing,” said Sirius, accepting the steaming cup.

“Cuddling my boyfriend while our first born kicks Slytherin arse?” Remus smiled down at Sirius, tapping their cups of hot chocolate together. Sirius snorted and returned the gesture, eyes fond and frown almost gone.

“I suppose,” he turned back around to watch the game. “Right then Moony, I suppose we should probably do some cheering.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy - 24th December
> 
> from lol-zeitgeistic for magpiefngrl, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy: Greece, weird dreams, holiday cheer.

**Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy - 24th December in the HP Secret Santa  
** (Another 700+ word beast to finish up my secret santa with. Thanks so much for all your amazing prompts @lol-zeitgeistic and a final Happy Holidays to you, @magpiefngrl!)

The sea was warm, lapping against Harry’s shins and pulling at the black hair on his legs. He waded out further, warmth spreading through him as the sea reached his chest. Tipping his head back, Harry closed his eyes as the bright sunshine turned the inside of his eyelids red.

A drop of cold against his forehead sent his eyes flying open again. Snow. Fat snowflakes tumbling down to float on the warm sea and tangle in Harry’s hair. The snowflakes didn’t melt and Harry watched as snowdrifts formed on the sand.

As soon as his foot touched the beach Harry was transported to a small tavern, overlooking the sea where he’d just been paddling. Draco Malfoy was sitting on the other side of the table. Tanned with a red stripe across his nose the only sign of the pale skin Harry use to watch out for.

Draco was smiling, laughing, even. One hand stretched out to Harry across the table.

“Come on, Potter,” Draco’s lips did’t move but Harry heard him speak. “If we’re late Molly will never forgive me.”

Harry blinked across the table, realising that Draco was wearing a red Weasley jumper with a large H stitched in gold thread. Something soft touched his hand and Harry looked down to see that Draco was pressing a green version towards him. He opened his mouth to protest that it was too hot but Draco was standing up, cocking a hip and looming over Harry.

“Come on,” he said again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How else am I supposed to take it off you if you don’t put it on in the first place?”

Rustling filled Harry’s ears as he pulled the jumper over his head. They were standing on the cliff-top outside a white villa, wearing their Weasley jumpers. Draco was laughing again, pulling Harry towards him as he murmured “It is tradition, I suppose.”

“What?” Harry felt like he was underwater, watching the flush spread up Draco’s neck. Draco’s lips were red and damp, unmoving as he said;

“The mistletoe, Potter. Potter? Potter!”

Harry woke gasping and covered in sweat, flinging out an arm and almost smacking Draco in the face.

“What is it?” Draco’s hands were in Harry’s hair, the sheet slipping down to reveal his Sectumsempra scars, glowing silver against golden skin. Harry reached out, covering Draco’s heart with a hand as his own heart raced. “Potter? Was it him? Was it Voldemort?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, dislodging Draco’s hands. “No it was you, we were outside. In the snow.” He fumbled for his glasses, pulling them on and gazing around at the familiar room.

“You were having a nightmare about me?” Draco’s voice was soft.

“What? No. Just a dream. I think that I, um...”

“Yes?”

Finally feeling his heart rate slow down, Harry looked up. “I think I’m ready to go home.”

“Oh. That’s...” Draco trailed off, large grey eyes glassy as he stared at the wall behind Harry’s head.

“Draco?”

“That’s, just, that’s just perfect, Potter.” Harry flinched at Draco spat the last word. He hadn’t called Harry ‘Potter’ since the battle. “Wonderful,” Draco continued, leaping off the bed and striding over to fling the windows open. “Good to know that a few weeks in the sun are all you needed to get back to being the Boy Wonder, thanks everso for allowing me to tag along. I’ll see you at the next Hogwarts reunion or-”

“Or you could see me at the airport,” Harry interrupted, following Draco to the window and scooping him into a hug. Draco’s hands rested lightly on Harry’s shoulders, not returning the hug but not exactly pushing him away either. “And you could see me at my flat in London,” Harry continued, smiling as he felt Draco relax. “And you could see me the next day, and the day after that, and lots of days after that.”

“How many days?” Draco’s voice was small, hands drifting down to land on Harry’s bare hips.

“All the days,” said Harry.

“Oh, well I suppose that might be... nice.” Harry could feel Draco starting to smile against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he sighed, holding on even tighter.


End file.
